I told myself firmly that it was for the best. He would move on. My horse would be bred. I'd find a new, less tempting place to settle. The one place I was not going, was home.
I lifted my gaze to the handsome bartender. He'd been more than attentive since I'd checked in. In fact, all I had to do was glance at him and he was over by my side pouring me another whiskey. Neat. He had dropped several hints each night about what time he got off.
So far I hadn't taken the bait. I had no desire to. It felt almost disloyal, which was absurd. And he left me stone cold. He was handsome but I had a strange certainty that he would fall short, feel somehow wrong. Make me want Daniel more instead of washing his memory away. To be honest, my heart was not in it. I could still feel Daniel's touch. I wasn't ready to leap frog into another man's bed.
Even though that was what I'd done to get over Philipe when I jumped into bed with Daniel. That was different though. That had worked.
No soft handed bartender was going to wash away Daniel’s touch.
My phone pinged and I glanced at it, expecting to see another text from Daniel. So far he'd been aggressive and seductive. I was fascinated to see what he would do next.
But it wasn't Daniel.
It wasn't even a text. It was an alert I'd set up to go off ages ago. It notified me when my name appeared in the press.
Ping.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
That was not good. A flurry of alerts were lining up on my phone. Gossip magazines but also the Sun, in London. Newspapers in my own county. France. Spain. Asia. The States.
Philipe's new fiancé, my ex best friend, was spilling our dirty laundry. I sneered. He'd neglected to mention his new arrangement with Veronica. She was letting me know that he was her's now, in no uncertain terms. She had always been adept at manipulating the press to her best advantage.
Before I'd found it amusing, watching her topple her enemies one by one.
But now she was taking aim at me. It wasn't enough to ruin my marriage before it had even begun. Now she wanted to cast me as the rejected party.
I opened an article, my stomach clenching as I read.
It included details of our recent phone call, twisted to make me appear desperate. She must have overheard him calling me and gotten jealous. I closed my eyes. Everything they posted was true. But it had been him who begged me. I felt lightheaded as I scrolled through the articles. Photos of the three of us from happier times. How ridiculously secure I looked. Surrounded by those who 'loved' me.
No, not happier times. More ignorant times. Back when I had played the fool.
Three years. Three years he'd stolen from me. Years I could never get back. Dignity I could not recover. Well, he wouldn't get another second of my attention.
Not even a millisecond.
I took a deep drink of my whisky. In an instant, my glass was refilled. I would simply get drunk and leave. Sleep in. Then tomorrow I would go far away, where newspapers would not find me.
Perhaps the Maldives.
I could come back for Athena later. She would be in good hands here. I knew I could trust Daniel with that, at the very least.
A second drink appeared before me.
"From the gentleman."
The bartender did his best to catch my eye, but I was distracted by a feeling of being watched from behind. I felt a shiver up and down my spine. Goosebumps broke out all over my skin. For the past three evenings I'd sat at this bar. Men had approached me. Many, many, men. I hadn't so much as spoken to one of them.
But I knew without turning that this was something else entirely.
I glanced over my shoulder. All the dread I'd been feeling disappeared in an instant, replaced with something else.
Lust. And nervousness.
Daniel Delancey was smiling at me as he held up his drink from across the room.
My cowboy looked determined. Hungry. And more than a little bit angry that I had made him track me down.
Something else sent a shiver down my spine.
Daniel was drinking water.
Chapter Seventeen
Daniel
I sipped my water, having had nothing to drink in three days. Jake had been right. I needed to be stone cold sober for what I was about to do.
Francesca's eyes were hot as she stared at me over her shoulder. I knew where to find her. I'd been watching her sit there for over an hour before I'd sent over the drink. I’d watched the bartender drool all over her. I’d watched every man who walked in practically trip over their own feet.
She had ignored them all. Just like she was ignoring me. Or trying to.